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Rank：Diamond Member
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From：Canada
- Register：12/07/2008 01:08 AM
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Date Posted：07/24/2016 16:14 PMCopy HTML
August 1997
I woke with a start. I was panting, my heart racing from the terrors my brain had just created in sleep. I didn’t scream at first. My eyes shot open, seeing only darkness around me, weird shapes forming in the darkest parts of my room. I scanned the area, thinking something had moved to the left of me. Then came the scream. As loud as I could project my voice.
“DADDY!!!”
I was eight this year. My birthday had just passed. Night terrors were more rare as I grew in age. But this was the third night in a row that I had woken from a nightmare. As if my brain was doing it on purpose. I thought I saw something shoot across my room towards the window.
“MUMMY! DADDY!!”
I had tears streaming down my face now. All I could think was that whatever might be in my bedroom already got to my parents. But quickly after, my father pushed open the door, light streaming into the room. He flipped the light on, rushing towards me. He turned on the lamp beside my bed, lighting up the room more. The shapes that scared me earlier were replaced with real things. A chair, clothing, toys, etc. Of course I was just seeing things. I was only eight, after all. I could feel my father wrap his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close to him.
“Don’t worry, lovey. I’m here. I’m here.”
He swayed gently with me as I sobbed against his chest for a few minutes. He stroked my hair, trying to calm me down. He looked down at me after a while.
“Is everything alright, sweets? What did you dream about, hm?”
I sniffled, trying to find my words.
“I dreamt that you were gone. You died.”
My lip quivered as I tilted my head up to him. I remembered the dream once again. Three nights in a row, I dreamt my father and I were in a car accident. I was fine every time, but he always died. I always went to him and tried to wake him up. Funny enough, I had watched The Lion King the week before. It was the first time I had really sat and watched it. Simba finding his daddy after the stampede had really stuck with me. Enough to make it into a real life version in my dreams. A few more tears sprouted from my eyes.
“Oh lovey. I’m right here, yeah? I’m right here with you. See? Just a dream. We’re okay.”
He could tell his words weren’t enough. He needed something more. He needed something more hard-hitting.
“I’ll always be here with you, Psyche. You know that, right? I’ll never leave you. I’m always here.”
“Forever?”
I looked up at him, hope in my eyes.
“Always.”
I beamed. I was so happy. My daddy would always be with me. Forever and ever. He tucked me back in and kissed my forehead. I hadn’t had a nightmare like that afterwards…
- - - - - - - - -
Friday April 22, 2016
‘… Until today.’
Psyche woke up with a start, much like she had so many years ago when she dreamed of her father dying in a car crash. She gasped for air, hot tears streaming down her face as her hand instantly shot beside her, trying to feel for the familiar body next to her as of late. But Jason was nowhere to be found. Probably out smoking outside somewhere. He wasn’t much of a sleeper. She frowned, not getting the solace of someone being there for her like when she was eight. It had been almost twenty years since she had had that dream. The car being run off the highway, crashing down a hill. She survived, no pain at all. But like back then, as she crawled out of the car and to the other side, she found her father dead. She tried to wake him, but it didn’t work. The only pain she felt was the pain of crying in a dream. She always found it hurt her chest when she cried hard in her dreams. As if it were punishment for allowing herself to get upset over a dream. She ran her hands under her eyes, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
She let out a staggered breath, trying to calm herself down. This was so different. It felt weird not having someone there to calm her down. Not having someone to hold her and tell her that everything was okay. Knowing…
Knowing that he wasn’t ever going to be there to comfort her again.
She bit her lip, tears springing from her eyes again. She pushed out of bed and walked to the bathroom, walking inside to take a shower. The water would help.
After her shower and getting dressed for the day, she walked into the main room of the hotel she was sharing with Jason. She had a laptop in her hand. She had planned a call with her mother on Skype. Jason had gone out for a little while, which left her the room. She opened her laptop, starting up Skype. She pressed the call button for her mother, waiting for an answer. She listened to the familiar chimes of the call. Her mother finally answered, the picture loading on the screen.
Jude: “Hi lovey.”
Psyche’s mouth raised slightly on one side. Her dad used to call her lovey. Her mother had started to adopt some of the things he used to say.
Psyche: “Hi mum. How are you?”
The video finally loaded, showing her mothers face. She looked tired. More weathered than she had ever looked. And her mother put a lot into her appearance. She also looked as if she had been crying, upset about something. Psyche slouched a bit, head falling into a slight tilt. She looked at her mother with such pity.
Jude: “I’m… alright, love. Just…”
Jude’s eyebrows furrowed.
Jude: “It’s a rough day.”
Her head fell slightly, looking down. Psyche frowned, feeling pained over how her mother looked. Jude’s hands came up, covering her face. Her shoulders shook slightly, small whimpers coming from her over the computer.
Psyche: “Oh mum…”
Psyche bit her lip, keeping herself from tearing up. It was so hard to see her like this. It was hard not to be there to comfort her mother. Even after all these months, the pain of her husbands death hadn’t left.
Psyche: “I wish I could be there. I wish I could hug you.”
Jude finally settled down a bit, wiping her face. She frowned at Psyche through the camera.
Jude: “I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to get like that around you. I know it makes you feel helpless.”
Her mother was always so apologetic. As if she thought anything she did was a burden. Psyche never saw it as such.
Psyche: “No, no. Mum, please. You’re still mourning. You need to let these things out.”
Jude: “I just really miss him.”
She nodded slightly, sadness still written on her face.
Psyche: “Me too, mum. Me too.”
She paused for a moment, deciding to change the subject.
Psyche: “I plan to come for a visit in a few weeks…”
Jude: “Oh I’d love that.”
Psyche: “Yeah. I thought it would be nice to get away from all the wrestling stuff. Come home for a few days. See you. See dad…”
She was referring to visiting the plot he was buried in. Her mother nodded.
Jude: “I can’t wait. How have things been for you?”
Psyche: “Fine. You know about the title and everything. It’s pretty exciting. Even if it doesn’t last, I can still say I won something. I’m pleased.”
She smiled slightly.
Jude: “And how about last night?”
Psyche bit the inside of her cheek. She had forgotten she told her mother about the dream when she texted her this morning. She sighed.
Psyche: “I… I dreamt of dad…”
She looked down.
Psyche: “Remember the one from when I was eight? The car-crash dream I was having every night? I had that one.”
Jude raised a brow.
Jude: “Really? Interesting.”
Psyche: “It was so real. But exactly how it was back then. Devastating.”
Jude nodded. It was good for her to hear someone else’s issues for once. To take her mind off of her own pain.
Psyche: “I was so naïve.”
Psyche looked down.
Jude: “What?”
Psyche: “Dad told me he’d be with me forever when I was eight. The last night I had that dream. That’s what he said to me. I was… naïve to think that was true. To think he really could be here forever. I was young. I believed anything he said.”
Jude frowned.
Jude: “You were young. He’d say anything to get you to stop crying. He’d say anything to see you smile.”
Psyche nodded, frowning as well.
Psyche: “I know. That’s what makes this all so hard. I miss him trying to make me smile.”
She looked at her mother frowning on her screen. She could feel tears coming, but stopped them, looking up at the ceiling.
Psyche: “I really miss him too, mum.”
- - - - - - - - -
“Nothing lasts forever.”
Psyche sat on the couch in the hotel room in Miami, leaned back in a lounging position. Icarus was curled up in the middle of her chest. Her finger gently stroking his little head and body. She wore a pair of dark jeans and a black tank top. Her hair was up in high pigtails. She had her bare feet propped up against the coffee table in front of her for a more comfortable position. Beside her was her title, laying face up on the couch.
Psyche: “It honestly doesn’t. This title? It won’t last forever. It will wear over time. Crack and break. The leather will become worn and the shine will dull. Icarus? He won’t live forever. One day, he will no longer be with me. A sad reality for my little bean, but such is life. Me, you… him, her… everyone. We won’t last forever. Eventually, everything will die. That is inevitable. The trick is acceptance. Do you accept that you will not last forever? Or do you keep the warped, childish view that nothing dies? I lived that way for a long time. And trust me… you will be disappointed.”
She paused, looking out the window beside her.
Psyche: “The worst part is, there’s no one else to blame these thoughts on. You can’t blame a parent for telling you things last. Most will tell you that things never last forever. But when you’re told ‘forever and always’, you believe them. But you grow up. Your mind develops. You understand that that choice of words was so you’d grow to understand loss later on. You’d understand disappointment. To be honest, I appreciate my parents for those tiny lies they’d tell. My goldfish lasts forever. But the moment I realized that Peter the fish wasn’t the same, I was taught about death. The moment my favourite TV show as a child was cancelled, I learned to appreciate the time I was able to enjoy it. I learned years later of nostalgia. I learned that forever only lasts a short amount of time when thrown around in life. Forever doesn’t last.”
She looked back at the camera set up in front of her, smiling slightly.
Psyche: “I learned not to be overly disappointed when something I hoped would last forever, didn’t. My title reign… Something I will not let myself be devastated over. I proved to myself what I am capable of. I held this title. I got to claim something that I didn’t even know was a possibility. And if I lose that at Panic at Capital City, I will be proud of myself for simply accomplishing something I didn’t even think I was fully prepared for. I did that. I won that. I was the Chivalry Champion.”
She paused, thinking for a second.
Psyche: “No… I AM the Chivalry Champion. Here’s the thing, ladies and gents. This is my title now. It belongs to me. It may leave my grasp, but it will always come home.”
She pushed her legs down, crossing them at the ankle on the table.
Psyche: “But then again… what am I really up against? A number, a twat, and a wannabe mass murderer. Lovely.”
She raised a brow at the camera.
Psyche: “The more I heard from each of my opponents, the more I had to just sit and laugh. Such pathetic attempts at proving to be the better ‘man’. Honestly, I’ll admit that I’m disappointed in them. What did you REALLY bring to the table? Any of you? Nothing.”
She smirked at the camera. She seemed to have more confidence in herself.
Psyche: “Thirteen… picked apart every promo she watched and commented on each little piece. Good job, love. Did you hold a note pad during each one and write down notes based on what we all said? Because I really found nothing new in anything you said. Just a lot of: ‘you said this? Well I’ll reply with this’. No wonder I no sold your being second in the Battle Royal. I’m kind of surprised you even got that far. Clearly it was based on your in-ring skill alone, since your promo skills are completely lacking.”
She shakes her head.
Psyche: “What is it you said in your promo? About me? Oh wait… nothing. Because everything you said was recycled bullshit that I said myself. Good luck, sweetheart. I did hear about Jason Cashe, a lot, though. I didn’t realize that you were facing him instead of me. It’s funny… this seems like deja vu for me. As if you’ve taken everything anyone has said about me over the past half a year and just said it with your voice, as if it would be any different. Guess what! It isn’t. Jason Cashe does not define me. He doesn’t make me who I am. He doesn’t fight for me in the ring. But you seem to believe he somehow does from backstage, I guess.”
She rolls her eyes.
Psyche: “You’re a mimic, Thirteen. Stealing pieces of everyone else and pretending that they are your own. Thrown together into one body. Next you’ll be claiming you’re the Alpha and getting the company to make a title just for you. They can call in the Unlucky title. I’d predict you lose it ten seconds after it is given to you.”
Psyche laughs, putting a hand under Icarus’ tiny body. She picks him up and cradles him for a moment. She repositions herself so that she’s sitting cross-legged on the couch now. She puts her hand down in her lap, stroking him again with her other hand.
Psyche: “Now… Persephone. Miss Marquis. It’s like the same old bullshit again, yeah? The same words said. I call you pathetic, you say I suck. Didn’t we just do this? Yes... we did. And yet here we are again. Undeserved is an understatement.”
A pause.
Psyche: “You know, the last time someone showed me ‘respect’ or some kind of truce, I got ashes forced down my throat. Mind you, I got back at her later on, but I’m sure you’ll understand why I don’t exactly trust your ‘respect’. Trusting you is like trusting a condom that’s had holes poked into it with needles. You just don’t. So why would I take the chance on you? You’ve clearly shown me that your respect means nothing. You could have been the bigger woman after everything I said about you and still saved face on the whole respect angle… but what did you do? You went and made a complete arse of yourself. Again.”
She pushed a strand of hair out of her face before starting to talk again.
Psyche: “I didn’t realize that the way I looked affected how I perform in the ring. So it’s a good thing you wasted so much bloody time talking about that. Your imagination is beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. But I think most people would disagree with just about everything you said. You can really tell your age by your use of the whole ‘you look like…’, ‘you’re so ugly…’, ‘your face is as ugly as…’ way of trying to get under someones skin. You’re what... fifteen? Sixteen? Almost out of highschool, love! Couple more years and you can choose a college, yeah? Oh wait… Daddy’s going to take away your trust fund before you even get there. Too bad.”
Psyche frowned mockingly.
Psyche: “You don’t think highly of me, Persephone. And the feeling is mutual. Don’t try to play shit off like you do. Don’t try to pretend like you were doing something good by your actions at the end of our match. Anything you do is suspicious to me. Always will be. I don’t trust you. I never will. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. Even if I did believe for a second that you were genuine, this is a match. This is what we have to do to promote ourselves. I wouldn’t have sat there and kissed your arse because you were praising me for beating you. No. We’re here to get under each others skin. We’re here to find each others weaknesses. And your weakness is that you’re just a girl that acts as if she’s in year eight. Tossing out sad little jabs at your opponents. Comparing them to aliens and paintings. Do you feel important? Do you feel special? You’re not. You just come off as touched.”
She smiles at the camera.
Psyche: “And of course we have Devin Hawk. Now I was a bit nervous about this guy… Until I watched his promos this time around. I’ve seen and heard some impressive things about Devin. Been told about all the things he’s done in all these places he’s been. Cyrus thought extremely high of him. And I take things Cy tells me to heart. But then I see his promos. All talk of death and destruction. Of maiming and breaking bones. Of blood and carnage. But where is it all? I’ve heard stories from the Bayou. I had friends there during your stay. One in particular that was quite close with you. But that’s hush-hush, right? Secrets. But here’s the thing, Devin. 4CW clearly isn’t the Bayou. Your days of hanging blokes from the rafters are over. You may have gotten away with it there, but people aren’t so passive around here. You can’t get away with breaking bones for fun. It just doesn’t work like that.”
She pauses for a moment, looking down at Icarus, who is moving about in her hand.
Psyche: “You plan to dismember me? Good luck getting away with that, love. Everything you say is a lie. An impossibility. It may sound daunting. It may be intimidating… until you realize that the words are just that; words. Nothing more. Scary words that mean nothing in the end. You don’t want the title? So why are you here? You sound EXACTLY like the dirty little hidden secret. Something that’s been said before. So why are you wasting our time? Because you want to cause pain. Well fantastic, you certainly accomplish that. But surely not to the extent you claim. Everyone causes pain in the ring. We’re wrestlers. It’s what we do. But dismemberment? Is there proof of this even happening yet? Because as of right now, I can tell you my fears are quickly draining. And isn’t that exactly what you feed off of, love?”
She raised a brow.
Psyche: “All these WORDS. From all of them. But how much are those words truly worth? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Be it mimics, comparisons, and embellishments. They mean nothing. We’re all stepping into that ring hoping for the same outcome. To win. Even if a title means nothing, you’re still out there to come out on top. There’s no lie in that. So who comes out on top? I’m quite biased, as I predict myself coming out standing tall. But it could be any of us. I could lose this title. Or I could keep it close.”
She puts a hand on the title beside her, looking at it.
Psyche: “This right here? This belongs to me, even just for now. This is mine. And all three of you are going to have to put a lot of work into taking it away from me. I worked for this. And I plan on continuing to work my arse off for it. I’m where I belong here. This is what I’m here for. And I will do everything in my power to keep this around my waist. I don’t care if my antics annoy you. If they make you more angry. I want to see your anger. Your frustrations. The moment I see I’ve gotten to you is the moment I can take advantage of you. And I can guarantee that I will be able to take advantage of that with at least one of you. I’m in this for the long haul. Not forever. But I will fight for this title until I can’t any longer. This is mine.”
She smiles at the title and looks back at the camera.
Psyche: “I will fight for it until it is worn and decaying. Until it is falling to pieces. Nothing lasts forever… but there’s many kinds of forever.”
- - - - - - - - -
Jude looked at her daughter. Now it was her turn to feel pity towards her child. They both had lost someone who meant so much to them in different ways. A man they both loved more than anything. Psyche looked back at her mother in that moment and said something Jude didn’t expect after seeing the sadness in her daughters eyes.
Psyche: “But his being with me always means something else now. He’s here. Just in a different way.”
A small smile found her way onto her mouth. Jude watched the change in her face. This was her daughter. The strong woman she raised. The woman who would find the positive in almost anything. The child who was strong, even if it was for her own mother.
Jude: “I agree with that, lovey. He is around us. I’m sure he’s watching you every step in your journey in America. I wish he could have seen how amazing you are. How much you’ve grown since you got there.”
Psyche: “He can. Just different.”
She nodded slightly. The two women shared a knowing smile with each other.
The rest of the conversation was spent on other things. Gossip about the family, laughter, anything they could think of. And memories. Memories of the husband and father that would be missed until the end of their times. Psyche even showed Jude Icarus. Jude, as a mother, was clearly unimpressed. She cursed Jason for buying Psyche such a foul thing, in her words.
The whole thing just made Psyche feel better about everything. About the dream. The dream was another memory of hers. Reminding her of the promise a father made to his daughter. A promise that was kept in different ways. A promise that could never be broken. |
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